


Past Pains and Present Fears

by BlueForestFox



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Completely Non-Canon, F/F, Jaina and Sylvanas married and trying to support each other, utterly ridiculous fluff, wifey things - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 17:01:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18124037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueForestFox/pseuds/BlueForestFox
Summary: OKAY huge disclaimer off the front: I am actually not a fan of canon Sylvanas (no problem with those who are, to each their own) ever since the whole Teldrassil-matchstick thing. BUT, I read a number of pieces by MarieAnne_Cormier that featured these two and they were all just really well written, and suddenly I had all these feels and I didn't know what to do with them. Totally alt universe set around BFA time because it frustrated me to no end that Jaina had NO ONE to talk to about all her family/past angst. In other words this is incredibly not canon, and just shameless ridiculous fluff.





	Past Pains and Present Fears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarieAnne_Cormier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieAnne_Cormier/gifts), [useless_lesbean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/useless_lesbean/gifts).



> You write great fic, thank you,  
> and this is entirely your fault :)

 

 

Along with many other things, being dead meant never needing to sleep.

It was easy to forget, easy to underestimate the significance of the needs of a mortal body until you suddenly no longer had one. The actual amount of time that was occupied by such things as sleeping, or eating, came almost as a shock to Sylvanas. After so much time spent among those who, like her, had walked the realms of the dead, she had all but forgotten the simple necessities of mortality. Sometimes it troubled her, other times it helped steele her resolve, when she looked to the woman at her side and realized how separate she sometimes felt from all that it meant to be alive.

Sleep, in particular, had been on her thoughts of late. She tried to recall the experience of dreaming, of waking, of having each day marked separate from the rest, bound to the need for slumber. All this she did quietly, sharing her musings with none but herself and her partner. Sleep hadn’t even been something she had sought. Initially.

It had seemed almost unfair, in a strange way. Stretched to their limits as they were, wrestling personal uncertainties and shadows of their pasts while trying to lead, plan, and foster diplomacy. Sylvanas couldn't help but notice the spans of hours her love needed to relinquish to sleep. Her wife, like so many others, had this need simply in order to stay alive, to stay functioning. As if the times didn’t demand enough already. She comforted herself with a reminder that sleep, for her partner, was thus a much needed respite.

Almost out of guilt, she had begun lying with her wife at night, dressed down beneath the sheets, watching the way the moonlight cast shadows on the room, on the walls, on the face she had come to know so well. It was one of the few times the thin line between her lover’s brows disappeared entirely, and at first Sylvanas was content merely to lie there, listen to the sound of soft breathing, and watch the stars wheel past the open balcony.

Soon, however, her pressing thoughts and worries stole the peace of nighttime, and she could lay there for shorter and shorter spans before she had to do _something---_ Work on strategy in the war room. Meet with other leaders and advisors. Target practice---The last had more and more become her choice of late, it meant time alone. Her own form of respite, where her whirling thoughts would finally be drowned out by the solid sound of a flying shaft meeting it’s mark and the familiar hum of her bowstring.

But then Jaina had stopped sleeping well.

She had stopped sleeping much entirely, and though she spoke little of it, the circles beneath her eyes and the slump to her proud shoulders sent ripples of concern through the back of Sylvanas’ thoughts. She was troubled, Sylvanas knew, and she could almost see the shadows of past pains creeping over the mage’s shoulders. Jaina had taken out old maps of Kul Tiras, and poured over them when she thought no one was watching.

Sylvanas began joining her when she slept again, only this time doing all she could to keep her mind quiet, even closing her eyes. She focused instead on the gentle breath of air from the open window and balcony door, the rustling of the silk curtains. She focused on the soft nighttime sounds and the press of the bed against her skin, the weight of her own body.

Amazingly, she slept.

She hadn’t known she still could, and she certainly didn’t need to, but for some reason she couldn't have said, it pleased her. It certainly wasn’t the same; She didn’t dream, and she didn’t rise feeling any differently that if she had spent the night awake. Well, perhaps a bit less agitated.

It seemed to have helped Jaina as well. She still woke from troubled dreams, sometimes after Sylvanas had pinned her thrashing limbs and called her name as to pull her from sleep, concern etched into the pale lines of her elven face. Even on those nights, Jaina frequently managed to fall back asleep, once or twice with one of Sylvanas’ arms wrapped around her. Slowly but surely the mage’s desperate chase of sleep eased, and slumber came to her both more quickly and more deeply. It became something special, something quiet and peaceful that the two of them shared, and Sylvanas found herself silently grateful for the unexpected and rare time of ease that it often brought her.

\----

On this night, the Banshee Queen woke to something she had never experienced before. She raised herself slowly, no need to rub the headiness of slumber from her eyes for it still never set upon her in earnest. Her gaze flicked to the expanse of the bed beside her, and found it empty. Her pale brows furrowed as she struggled momentarily with the unexpected feeling of the tingling edges of fear. The moonlight cast an eerie glow across the smooth stones of the floor as she rose to her feet. Judging by the path of the silvery sheen, it was some hours yet before dawn.

Sylvanas walked quietly to the opening of the balcony, the curtains on either side fluttering faintly like translucent ghosts. She tied the cord of her gown, and stepped through, the wind playing with the long silvery strands of her hair as she walked out into the night.

The air was soft and almost warm, the stars bright, and the largest of Azeroth’s moons hung almost full in the velvety black sky. Jaina stood at the far end of the balcony, bare feet on stone, her own gown rustling slowly in the nighttime breeze. Her profile carried with it the lines of beauty and strong pride as she gazed out towards the west, over the roofs of buildings to the rolling hills and woodlands beyond. Somewhere, past the crest of hills and close enough to almost smell at times, was the sea.

Sylvanas stood for a moment, wisps of fine hair swirling about her, bright eyes scanning the night-cloaked landscape, long ears flicking slightly as they caught the call of a distant owl, the whispering of the air, and the soft sound of Jaina humming. It was a soft sound, little more than a murmur, but familiar in a way that warmed something deep within Sylvanas’ chest. It was only once she recognized the tune that she stiffened, the hand that normally held her bow clenched into a fist.

Jaina seemed not to notice her wife’s presence, her eyes lost in memory as she stared out towards the distant sea, the delicate fingers of one hand settled on the necklace at her throat. The anchor hung silvery and glinting in the moonlight, the fair skin beneath cast in a pale glow. Her hum turned into a soft whisper as the wind swirled her two-tone hair.

_Those bloodsoaked shores_

_Of Kalimdor_

_Where sailors fought and died_

_The Admiral fell_

_At Theramore_

_Because she left his side_

Sylvanas stepped towards her, lightly, and in the hope of not startling her love from deep thoughts. Jaina, though she had not acknowledged it, seemed to know she was there. Her singing faded into the quiet night.

“I’m sorry if I woke you.” She spoke softly, and still kept her gaze locked on that distant horizon. Sylvanas slowly stepped up beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched, and gazed out west until Jaina finally turned to her. She looked wearied, yes, but there was something sorrowful in the depths of her eyes, a weight that Sylvanas could almost feel.

“You didn’t.” Sylvanas slowly wrapped an arm across her wife’s shoulders. Jaina leaned into it, pressed her head gently between Sylvanas’ jaw and shoulder, bringing with it the smell of parchment, pine, and spring flowers. “Dreams chasing you again?”

“No.” There was something resigned in Jaina’s voice. Sylvanas let a long moment pass, listening to the wind as Jaina wrapped her arm around her lover’s waist and pressed them more closely together. Sylvanas glanced down to the medallion still clasped between Jaina’s fingers.

“You decided then.” The elf didn’t voice it as a question. Jaina raised her head so as to make eye contact, set her jaw tightly, and nodded.

“Yes. I have to go back. I will face whatever consequences my past has conjured for me, and I will return with the fleet, or not at all.” Her voice was steady, and even now it seemed her decision had banished the cloud that had loomed over her, regardless of what potential dangers it held. Sylvanas merely gave a knowing nod, a line thin as gossamer between her brows.

“Are you not going to protest my choice?” Jaina wore the beginnings of confusion in the fair lines of her face as her eyes searched Sylvanas’ expression.

“No. If this is your choice then it is something you must do, and something you must do alone.” Her voice was gentle, but her words cast a frown across Jaina’s face. The human pulled away from her wife’s grasp, her eyes downcast, before she looked again to the western horizon.

“I expected you might have been concerned. I am guilty of treason by the laws of---” Jaina began, but never finished. Sylvanas raised a hand to her wife’s shoulder and gently turned her, squaring their chests and carefully taking both of her lover’s hands in her own. Fingers laced together, Jaina’s skin warm against the chill of Sylvanas’ grasp as the elf fixed a piercing gaze on the woman before her.

“Jaina, of course I am concerned. I’m worried in ways you can’t imagine and in ways I never expected to be. But I trust you.”

Jaina opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it again. Sylvanas continued, all the while holding both of Jaina’s hands tightly in her own.

“I trust you, and I know you. I know you will govern yourself by the principles you live by, and even if I don’t agree with all of them, they are part of what guides you and I have no more desire to judge them than I do you.” Her voice was gentle, measured, and as she spoke the shadows of confusion faded from Jaina’s face.

“This is also something you have to do alone. This kind of thing,” Sylvanas unlaced one of her hands and gently pressed her fingers on the cool silver of Jaina’s medallion. “These kinds of scars, you can only face them alone. That is a task no one can do for you. I know this better than most.” She removed her hand and raised it, delicately pushing a stray strand of fair hair from her wife’s face and tucking it behind one of her ears. “And I know that once you have your mind set on something like this you’re far too proud and stubborn to be swayed.” She flashed a small grin as she spoke, tempered by something deep and warm in her glittering eyes, as the path of her hand continued and she gently caressed her lover’s cheek. Jaina offered a sheepish smile, before her expression suddenly became fragile, the innermost point of her brows rising slightly.

Sylvanas carried on. “Far be it beyond me to try to stop you. I’ve had a feeling you would come to this decision for some time now. It’s not my place to tell you how or when to do this. I only wish to support you in this. But of course I am worried.” She kept her cool fingers against the soft warmth of Jaina’s cheek, as the woman looked at her in such a way it brought a dull ache to something deep in her chest.

“If you’ve known and worried why have you said nothing?” Jaina’s eyes searched her lovers face as she spoke, her free hand rising to clasp Sylvanas’, lowering it from her cheek, fingers entwining again.

“Jaina this is no small journey for you. You have enough to think on without me adding my worry to the mix.”

“And even though you trust me you worry, and even though you worry you will not try to stop me. If you feel so certain and you’ve known this for so long why worry at all?” There was an edge to Jaina’s voice, and it did not go unmissed.

Sylvanas gave a small smile, almost in a pitying way, as one would to a child who had begun to learn the hardness of the world.

“Jaina.” The elf untangled their hands and raised both of hers to Jaina’s shoulders. “I worry because I know the risk you are taking and the potential consequences. I worry because I cannot bear this burden beside you, and even though it is an important journey for you, I am terrified by what might happen.” Confusion ghosted across Jaina’s face, and Sylvanas gave a soft laugh, little more than a huff of air.

“You are a radiant sun in my life, Dalah’surfal. One that I never should have been granted. I have come to love you with all of my being, and I cannot bear to imagine losing you. What’s worse is knowing that the danger you walk towards is one that I cannot face with you. I love you. I trust you. And I am more worried than you can imagine.”

Jaina’s expression settled back into a mix of fragile and resolute, one pearly tear leaving a shimmering trail down her cheek. Sylvanas delicately brushed it away with her thumb, before Jaina gently raised a hand to her lover’s face and pulled her forward into a kiss. Sylvanas wrapped a hand around Jaina’s back and held her close, their bodies molding to each other as they stood entwined for long moments beneath the starlight.

“I wish you had spoken all of this sooner.” Jaina said as they finally broke apart. “You forget I do not know the thoughts that pass through your head. I’d much rather they be spoken than left to fester.”

“Says the woman who only now reveals her plans to go to Kul Tiras.” Sylvanas smirked.

“Still. Sometimes I forget, and it surprises me...what I mean to you.”

“Perhaps because it sometimes surprises me as well.” She took Jaina’s hand again. It was true. She had never expected this, never expected to fall so completely in love, and remember again because of it, what it was to be afraid.

“There’s some hours before dawn. Would you like to try to sleep?” Sylvanas asked as she wrapped her arm once more around Jaina’s shoulders.

“Yes. But not yet. I’d like to linger her moment longer.” So instead they stood, arms about each other, gazing out across the quiet night. Jaina leaned her head once more into her wife’s shoulder.

“Tides, Sylvanas,” Jaina spoke softly into the dark, “I do not know what luck it was that turned a political marriage into the greatest gift in my life. But I will always be grateful for it.”


End file.
